Pick Yourself Up
by ImpalaLove
Summary: SLIGHT SPOILERS FOR SEASON 8 but it's mostly AU. Dean's in Purgatory. Things aren't going too well. DUN DUN DUN. I'm sorry I'm atrocious when it comes to summaries.
1. Chapter 1

**SPOILERS FOR SEASON 8. Can't get Purgatory out of my head for some reason so here's yet another story about it. There will be four short chapters posted within the next couple weeks. I don't own anything.**

**Dean's POV (as per usual- seriously I need some variety. Whatever.)**

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Pick Yourself Up

The shaking started on the second day, but it wasn't until the third that I realized what it meant. My first thought was that maybe Purgatory was screwing with my nervous system. Maybe a human just couldn't survive in this pit of blood and dirt, and maybe there was no way to stop death this time. And honestly, by the fifth hour of nonstop tremors, death was exactly what I was praying for.

I switched to praying directly to Cas when my knees finally gave out.

Every part of me was shaking, my muscles spasming as I tried to crawl my way towards the cluster of trees just a few feet in front of me. It took all my strength, and by the time I finally made it, it felt as if both lungs had collapsed. Like my entire body had decided to give up, long before I had.

I propped myself against the nearest tree, attempting to burrow into the ground as much as possible, throwing fallen branches over my trembling, useless legs to hide myself from anything that might be lurking nearby. Still, I was pretty sure I'd be dead within the hour. Just two sleepless days in Purgatory had been enough to learn that catching a break just wasn't in the cards, especially for _Dean freaking Winchester_. The only advantage I had was the unnamed weapon I had swiped off one of the first creatures I had killed. Honestly, I had no idea what the thing had been, but I was grateful for the curved blade its death had provided me with. I gripped it close to me now, unwilling to lose my only defense. I felt around also for the small silver knife that was permanently lodged into my boot, relieved to find that it was still there.

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My lips felt as though they'd been peeled off, parched and burning, so my whispered prayers eventually turned silent. I screamed for Cas in my head instead, hoping he was still alive and still fighting. Hoping he could save me from whatever the hell this was.

And whatever the hell this was was getting worse.

My stomach had apparently decided to follow its lifelong dream of becoming a world-class gymnast, flipping and twisting until what little I had had left in my stomach found its way onto the ground, mixing in amongst the dried leaves and...blood? My blood. Dripping sluggishly from a thick slice on my hand I'd had no way of treating or thinking about once the shaking had started.

I groaned and licked my wasted lips, glancing towards the gray, swirling sky and wishing, not for the first time, that there were stars in Purgatory. I missed their familiar flicker, the memories that went along with them. Sighing, I slumped lower against the tree at my back, closing my eyes against the pain. I just wanted it to be over, one way or another. Either something would find me lying here and take advantage of my damaged state, or the acid in my throat would just eat its way through the rest of me. I preferred the first option.

Neither happened though.

I somehow managed to drift to sleep, telling myself it'd be easier that way. Telling myself I wouldn't have to wake up again. But I did. And when I awoke, the sky was still an empty gray. And I was still, miraculously, alive. My muscles ached and burned, making it nearly impossible to move. I heaved in a deep, painful breath that only served to start up a coughing fit, doubling me over. My stomach lurched violently and several dry heaves later, I found air again, pulling it desperately into my starving lungs. God why hadn't some vampire or rugaru or _something_ found me and just put me out of my goddamn misery yet?

I really needed a drink. Just a nice cold beer or a shot of whiskey...or maybe ten. And once I started thinking about it, I couldn't stop. _Just one drink. _Something._ Anything_. A damn wine-cooler with five percent alcohol would do, just so long as I could feel that sweet, slow burn down my throat. My breath was coming out in rough, shallow gasps, my heart hammering away against my ribcage as I ran through my favorite brands in my head, the list growing and evolving with the pain that reached down through my bones and pulled at my sanity.

And then it hit me.

This wasn't Purgatory's doing. It was my own body that was tearing itself apart from the inside. Because it craved what I could no longer have, what Purgatory didn't provide me with.

Alcohol.

This was withdrawal.

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**Next chapter will be posted soon. Let me know what you thought if you have time and thank you for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Here's chapter two. Again, they're short little blurbs but I hope you enjoy them nonetheless!**

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**Previously: **

And then it hit me.

This wasn't Purgatory's doing. It was my own body that was tearing itself apart from the inside. Because it craved what I could no longer have, what Purgatory didn't provide me with.

Alcohol.

This was withdrawal.

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**Now: **

I squeezed my eyes shut, clenching my jaw and resisting the urge to scream as another wave of pain rolled through my body. I spit out the bile clinging to the inside of my throat, my shaking fingers digging deep into the dirt. Sweat escaped from every pore, soaking through my shirt and trickling down the back of my neck. Even the knowledge of what was happening did nothing to change the fact that it still _felt_ like I was dying.

"_Dean?"_

I froze. No. No way. This couldn't be real.

"_Dean?"_ The voice came again. Soft and sweet and familiar and impossible.

Because she wouldn't be here. _Couldn't_ be here.

"_What's wrong, honey? Tell me what's wrong." _

Oh God I was going insane. I was really crazy this time. A cool brush against my forehead and another whisper in my ear told me I'd gone completely off the deep end. But I responded anyway because I wanted so badly for it to be true. Just a second to pretend, that's all I needed.

"Mom?" It was the most pathetic whimper I'd ever allowed to pass my lips, but I really didn't care because at that moment she laid a palm against my cheek, brushing away strands of sweaty hair that had stuck to my forehead. I closed my eyes at her touch, soaking up this long-forgotten feeling of safety. Her touch ghosted along my jaw as the soothing continued, faint whispers of "It's okay, you're okay" finding their way to my ears.

And then she was gone.

The second I opened my eyes, her presence became a memory that hadn't even been real in the first place. It was unbearable. I tried to stop the strangled gasp that wriggled it's way free from my throat, but it came anyway, heightened by the pain still rocketing through my skull. I sank further back against my tree, head bowed, moisture threatening at the corners of my eyes.

"_You know better than that." _

My head snapped up immediately at this new voice, knowing even before I saw his face that it would be my father staring back at me. He looked as imposing as ever, shoulders pulled back in proper military stance, eyes glued to mine so I wouldn't dare look away. I opened my mouth to speak but he silenced me with a slight narrow of his eyes, assessing me thoroughly, like a bug under a microscope.

"_Stop wallowing. Stop it. You're not done yet. You keep fighting, you hear me? Don't you dare lay down and die. Don't you _dare_." _

His booming voice echoed across the expanse of dead ground that suddenly seemed faded and insignificant in comparison. All that mattered were his words, strong and demanding and expectant. Always expectant.

"_Pick yourself back up Dean. Pick. Yourself. Up." _The last few words were quieter than the rest, my father's immense presence beginning to wane in the shifting light. His image shimmered before my bloodshot eyes and I blinked furiously, willing him to come back into focus, my own unspoken words still trapped on the tip of my tongue.

And then he was gone too.

I lurched forward, reaching for the last wisps of his disintegrating form but coming up empty, my fingernails caked only in dirt and blood. Leaning back against the tree, I pushed out from it furiously, willing my body to work, to bring me back to my feet. I got about halfway up before collapsing back onto the ground with a grunt, folding over as another bout of tremors hit me full force. When it was over, I huffed out a long, uneven breath and dragged a trembling hand across my face.

Even knowing that none of it had been real, I thirsted for more. Craved the distraction of another hallucination before I fell back into the throes of agony that still wracked my exhausted body.

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I sat like that against the tree for a long while; took my time gathering my strength back for another attempt at standing, my father's words still ricocheting off the walls of my pounding head. It became a steady chant, and I matched it to the pace of each breath. _Pick. Yourself. Up. Pick. Yourself. Up. Pick. Yourself. Back. Up. Now. Dean. _

And I did.

It took everything, but finally I was on my feet again, still leaning heavily against the giant tree behind me. I took a few more breaths. _Pick. Yourself. Up._

In and out. In and out. Stop. Listen.

Footsteps.

A slight disturbance a little ways off to my right. I cocked my head to the side, otherwise remaining completely motionless.

Something was coming.

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**Let me know what you thought if you have time. Chapter 3 is coming soon! **


	3. Chapter 3

**Here's the latest chapter!**

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I edged slowly around the thick trunk of my tree, positioning myself in a place I hoped would be out of the view of whatever was coming. The element of surprise was the only tool I had besides my two weapons, and I planned on utilizing it. A small voice in the back of my head told me that even with this small advantage, I was basically done for. Sure, if it was just one monster, I might have a chance, but considering my current state, any more than that meant I'd just be dinner. And judging by the amount of rustling going on, I was betting on at least three fuglies.

"_Doesn't matter. You've handled worse before." _

I sucked in a startled breath, my head spinning from the suddenness of this newest mirage. Sammy. Standing right in front of me, eyes wide and pleading.

"_Come on Dean. I need you to come back. I need you to come home. Please fight. You can do this, I know you can do this." _

God he seemed so real. I resisted the urge to reach out to him, knowing that if I did, he would most likely disappear. And I wanted to enjoy the sight of him for as long as I could. His too-long hair, the slight dip of his shoulders that told me he was worried about me. I smiled back at the image of my little brother with a slight nod of my head, not wanting to risk a whisper with the enemy so close but hoping he would see the message behind my expression.

_I'm not giving up Sam. I'm gonna find a way home. _

A part of me knew it was stupid even to nod. Sam wasn't here with me. Sam was back up top in the real world, most likely scouring the ends of the earth for me. And I couldn't disappoint him. Couldn't leave him with nothing of me left to find. So I tightened my grip on the blade in my hand and leaned down slowly to grab the silver knife from my boot. I ignored the shaking in my muscles and I waited for the shifting of feet against dirt to reach the space right beside the tree I hid behind.

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There were three, just like I had thought. Three werewolves with a disturbing amount of dried blood caked into their fur. They seemed to be only halfway through their transformation, sharp canine teeth overflowing a still-human mouth, their eyes gold and glowing as they strode along on two legs. The first one lost its head before it could make it all the way past my hiding spot and I moved quickly, jamming the silver knife into its chest before it even had a chance to fall. I was pretty sure decapitation worked just fine on a werewolf, but I didn't want to risk it, especially down here.

Pulling the tiny knife out of the first creature's headless body, I whirled to find the next one, only to be brought immediately to my hands and knees simply from the force of my own movement. My stomach lurched painfully, but before the dry heaves could start up again, I was on my back, the second werewolf towering over me, the claws on it's half-formed front paw digging into my chest. I gulped in a few breaths of necessary air, writhing beneath the werewolf's hold.

"_Fight harder,"_ Sam urged, his face appearing before me once more. _"Come on Dean. You've got a damn silver knife in your hand. Come. On."_

I nodded again automatically, slicing the small knife across the werewolf's foot and eliciting an agonized, half-human scream. With it came the absence of pressure on my chest and I took full advantage, rolling onto my stomach and once again getting to my hands and knees despite the shaking that seemed to originate from the very center of my bones.

The third werewolf chose this time to strike, digging her curved claws deep into the back of my right shoulder but jumping back in time to avoid the delayed swing of my knife. I cried out, losing what little balance I had and falling back onto my stomach, the familiar feeling of blood soaking lazily into my jacket. Another scream made its way past my lips as the two remaining werewolves rolled me onto my back, their faces suddenly just a few inches away as they came down to all fours, finishing their transformation. I watched, slightly fascinated, as their faces lengthened into long snouts, fur sprouting up along their now pointed ears and running down along the length of their backs.

My body shook and seized beneath their collective weight and I bit back the bile as another wave of tremors took over. The werewolves growled in response, both leaning in closer, teeth bared, their putrid breath thick with the stench of blood and decay. Wouldn't be much longer now.

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**I apologize for yet another cliffhanger! I seriously can't resist. Remember to leave a review if you have time because they seriously make my day. Otherwise, thank you so much for reading! Final chapter will be up soon =)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Alright here's the final chapter. Thanks so much for sticking with it!**

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I dragged in a ragged breath, just praying for it to be over quickly. Being eaten alive had been far down on the list of ways I wanted to die. And I'd thought about dying a lot.

"_You promised..."_ Sam's voice once again carried through to my scrambled brain. _"You promised me you'd always be around. Don't give up. Come back home." _

My voice hitched on a response and I clenched my teeth, not able to completely hold back another tortured yell as the werewolf with dark gray fur dug its teeth into my bicep, tearing deep into the muscle.

"_Use the knife. Use the goddamn silver knife and come back home," _Sam screamed at me, his face blurred and unclear but somehow still slightly visible in my distorted periphery.

I focused on his voice, bringing myself back to the surface, fighting through the crippling pain. I held on tighter to the knife still gripped in my left hand and with one powerful overhead swipe, brought it down into the gray werewolf's back. It bucked and screeched on top of me, and I felt it's claws slide once more across my chest before it went limp, luckily rolling off of me in the process. The last remaining werewolf growled in disbelief and fury, it's jaws widening as it aimed directly for my jugular.

But I was quicker, jamming my knife straight into the soft skin beneath the werewolf's chin, all the way through to the hilt. The wolf jerked backwards, pulling the embedded knife from my grasp as it collapsed onto the ground beside me, heaving out one last stuttered breath before it went still.

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I lay on the ground beside the three dead wolves, panting hard and shaking harder, trying to somehow regain control of my body. I could feel the blood seeping from my right arm and shoulder, soaking into the ground beneath me. But still, I couldn't bring myself to move. I allowed my eyes to flutter closed, my body relaxing deeper into the earth as I listened to my own stammering heartbeat, the pounding of blood against my ears.

"_Get up Dean. Get. Up." _

"_Dean honey, you've gotta get back on your feet. Come on now." _

"_Come on Dean, please get back up. Please."_

First my father. Then my mother. Then Sam. Their voices pulled at my fading consciousness, urged me away from the blackness that was slowly seeping into my vision. I wanted so badly to just give in. To just let myself sink lower and lower until this cold, ruined world faded into nothing. And me along with it.

"_Please. Please don't do this to me," _Sam's voice pleaded. Broken and scared like when he was still just a kid and the only thing between him and the monsters our dad hunted was me. His big brother. His hero. The one he depended on the most.

I opened my eyes. Found his slightly wavering, tear-streaked face staring down at me. Pulled in several long breaths and started my chant all over again.

_Pick. Yourself. Up. Pick. Yourself. Up. Pick. Yourself. Up. Dean._

And finally, finally...

I did.

~~~~END

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**This chapter was a bit shorter than the rest but I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless. Have a brilliant day and leave a review if you've got time!**


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